


Endings and Beginnings

by jennandblitz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Character Study, Drabble, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, MWPP, Marauders, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 18:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17329883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandblitz/pseuds/jennandblitz
Summary: Remus Lupin always knew it would end this way.Sirius Black, of course, never thought about endings.





	1. Remus Lupin

Remus Lupin always knew it would end this way. 

In his bones, he knew it. He and Sirius Black were much too much. Too much of everything.

Too many arguments, too many half-hearted apologies just so things could go back to how they were after boyhood arguments and raw nerves, too many feelings, too many gasped declarations of just what they meant to each other under Gryffindor curtains, too many words left unsaid after twelve damn years.

Too many mistakes over the, _Merlin_ , two decades of being so damn entwined it was hard to tell where one stopped and the other started, too much to overcome after all the hurt, too much Sirius, too much Remus.

Too much love, so much it spilled over, so much that it was felt when you walked into the room they were in, curled in the same armchair in front of the fire, scarred fingers weaving their way through masses of inky hair as if they could be anywhere else. So much love that you couldn’t do anything but notice the way their eyes seemed to perpetually meet across the room if there was but an inch of space between them - the constant glances in classrooms, at Christmas parties, at Order meetings, at moments where it all felt impossible but yet here they were. So much love that it was too much. 

As if they could barely handle how much the other boy gave to them, but lapped it up all the same. The pair were only too aware that far too much of them resided within the other. Remus knew nearly all of him lived with Sirius, and the raven-haired boy knew the majority of his being lived with his Moony. Even before their relationship became anything close to romantic, Remus knew he belonged with the other boy. He knew it from the moment their eyes first met, to some extent, in his veins as sure as he knew the pull of the moon. Although, Remus couldn’t describe their relationships as romantic - the word didn’t seem enough, nothing seemed enough. It was all encompassing. Every moment of Remus’ life was touched by Sirius Black.

They were two trees whose roots had grown together over time. Through the glory and safety of Hogwarts, the quiet terror of their little flat, then the gradual yawning spaces of pain between them, it was like they had truly forgotten to breathe without the scent of the other in the air. As boys, their insides were already so full and yet broken at the same time, but they could always find what they needed in each other. Never what they wanted. But always, what they needed. Kicking and screaming, shouting they couldn’t do this anymore in the middle of the night, when one of them stumbled home and there was so much pain and mistrust in grey and amber eyes, so much terror of _Merlin, how can I carry on when all I need is you but I can’t have you, not like I want, not like I need, I can’t - Merlin burning, I can’t trust you._ They couldn’t do this, there was too much, they couldn’t do it, not to each other, not to themselves. But they always needed. And so they were, despite the pain and the terror there was always Remus-and-Sirius, always what they needed in each other.

Remus always tried to keep to himself, but he found that, despite what he wanted, he was always drawn to Sirius Black. From the first moment they met eyes on the train, Remus was captivated. That wave of inky black hair, the careless way he threw it back from his eyes, the way he carried himself in those utterly unflattering Hogwarts robes. Remus found himself smiling behind the safety of his book, despite it all. The feeling only grew as Sirius, James and Peter stood by him in second year. They had found out about his lycanthropy, Remus’ biggest fear, gathered in the dorm room, James worried but steadfast behind his glasses, Peter stood a half pace behind, unsure as always, and Sirius, oh Sirius, reclined on the bed as if he hadn’t just upended everything Remus knew. He was so prepared to just pack up his things, always trying to be as little of a bother as possible, and throw himself off the Astronomy Tower. But Sirius had laughed, in that way he always did, slung his arm around Remus’ shoulder, and said “We’re Marauders, mate, you’re not going anywhere.” He remembered crying with relief, a sob dropped onto Sirius’ shoulder even as the raven-haired boy shot James a bewildered look.

The other predominantly Sirius feeling came shortly after that, after looking over in Transfiguration and looking at the way Sirius chewed idly on the end of his quill, Remus realised he was in love with Sirius. It felt like nothing and everything had changed all at once, but it all settled with gentle kisses that soon exploded into a need that ravaged Remus, he needed to be with Sirius, near Sirius, always. School was a whirlwind after that, a torrent of emotion that Remus tamped down hard on, his biting need to be always with Sirius, to merge his being with the other boy, so desperate for whatever Sirius could give him. Nothing in Remus’ life felt easy except Sirius. There was always unflinching connection between them, as steadfast as James, as loyal as Peter, as clever as Remus, as brash as Sirius. He yearned like he never had before, he wanted and needed and _got_. It was perfect, the rush of love he felt for Sirius.

They moved into a flat at the edge of London after Hogwarts, with Alphard’s inheritance and a childlike excitement for life. James moved out and married Lily, Peter got himself a ministry job and Remus-and-Sirius remained. Steadfast, loyal, clever, and brash. Until it all started to fall apart. But even then, through the terror and the mistrust and Merlin, so many tears, Remus still _needed_.

The need didn’t go away on October 31st 1981\. As much as Remus wished it was gone, it stayed. The gnawing emptiness inside him that still needed Sirius, he still knew his other half resided with him, in Azkaban, with shrieking madness and laughter. He felt it. Sometimes he thought it was the grief, late at night in that forsaken flat that made him want to scream and laugh, but he knew it was Sirius. He felt the raven-haired boy - or was he a man now? - the same way he always did. It was their link, the animal part of their brains that knew they weren’t whole without each other. The part of Remus that sunk his teeth into Sirius’ shoulder one morning over Christmas break in fifth year as he shuddered with pleasure, and Sirius had sighed as he collapsed into the pillows, the feeling of how much Remus loved him coursing through his body making the tears spring to his eyes. It had always been near telepathic, the uncanny ability to feel exactly what the other was feeling. Research didn't help, it was presumed to be something wolfish springing from Remus' blood, the fierce pull for a mate. But they never looked into it, it never seemed important, it was just another part of Remus-and-Sirius.

It made it worse. Remus felt the clenching distrust in Sirius’ gut when Remus finally appeared home, two weeks after schedule looking as if he had gone three full moon’s in a row. He felt the burst of love in Sirius’ chest that he tried so hard to push down because he wasn’t quite sure how he could still love someone he didn’t trust to sleep next to. So he still felt it, years later separated by the North Sea and the walls of Azkaban, the madness clawing at Sirius’ veins like it was the phantom pain of a lost limb. He wept and tried not to think about the fact Sirius would feel the tears like they were burning his own eyes.

Even as Remus felt the elation of seeing Sirius before him, free from Azkaban after all those years, a small, wry smile on his face just a shadow of his previous brilliance, he knew how it would end. Even as Remus embraced his former lover, his other half, his beautiful, beautiful Padfoot, and felt his too-skinny arms wind around him, he knew. Somewhere between the bones and marrow and wolfish blood coursing his body, Remus knew how it would end. Even if he hadn’t foreseen this outcome, the sting of knowing he was wrong after twelve years, wondering how exactly he could’ve ignored the punch to his gut every time he thought Sirius had betrayed his best friends and not marched to Albus’ door and screamed until he was hoarse. But it was done, Remus only ever thought about endings anyway, and the past was behind them. Sirius was back, and the screaming madness in both their veins seemed to abate.

Even as they tried to fall back into old ways a year later, curled around each other in bed on a Sunday morning, listening to the Order come and go below in Grimmauld Place, Remus knew this wasn’t the end. It hadn’t taken them long to unearth the buried connection between them, the searing wanting _need_ between them even after a decade. Turns out the soul was hard to ignore, no matter how stubborn Remus was, and he knew Sirius was even worse. He tried to focus on the fleeting moments of happiness of Sirius grinning as he heard Bowie for the first time in twelve years, the sheer relief of a hot shower, the beautiful way Remus could unravel and put him back together in bed at night, as if no time had passed at all, and despite the distance they were still boys at Hogwarts discovering their bodies to a soundtrack of Queen and rasping moans. But he was thinking of endings. They were always meant to be a tragic love story, Moony and his Padfoot, he knew this wasn’t the end. Not yet.

When Remus heard the crackling laughter of Bellatrix Lestrange, and felt more than saw the curse hit Sirius’ square in the chest, that’s when it dawned on Remus. When those stormy grey eyes flickered over the room, instinctively searching, they found Harry, _Prongslet_ , who was always his first instinct to protect. Then they found Remus, in the second between falling and disappearing, he saw his Moony, the one he always looked to for protection, the one he always needed, no matter what. A moment of peace crossed his face through the terror, that beautiful face, even despite it all, despite the chasm between them for years, the misunderstandings, the fighting, the screaming, the _pain_. Despite it all, Sirius looked to Remus for what he needed, and found in there in his last moment. The peace in Sirius’ heart ricocheted through Remus like a cannonball, so aware of how wrong it felt when braced against the scream in his throat and the tearing of fresh disbelief. It had taken every ounce of Remus’ strength not to tumble through the veil after his other half, the gnawing emptiness of his soul so glaringly obvious now. He knew then, it was the beginning of the end. But there would be no release then.

In the 12 years Sirius was in Azkaban, Remus did nothing but feel. Endless, painful swathes of feeling that kept coming and coming until he felt like he was drowning in it all. He never knew how he managed to keep his head above water, but he did, somehow. After Sirius fell through the veil, all feeling stopped. Everything was numb, as if the water he tried so hard not to drown in before was seeping into his very being. Somehow, the lack of Sirius was even more painful than their separation. Moony howled, every day of the lunar cycle, even when he was meant to get a break, when the night sky was dark, Moony howled and keened and the emptiness of it wouldn’t stop. He kept his head down, he was there for nothing but Harry. He was the only Marauder left, and he had to stand by the Prongslet - and Godric that name still hurt - until he could do nothing but stand until he couldn’t, so painfully aware of the ending.

The battle loomed on the horizon for most, but Remus wasn’t feeling. He was thinking of endings, he found himself in the thick of it, throwing curses with reckless abandon, nearly feeling James and Sirius at his shoulders, back to back, fighting like the brothers they were, so in tune with each other, moving like one, like the quiet voice of his animal instinct, the two best duellers he knew, and Merlin, it still hurt. It all still hurt. The shot of green light came at him quickly. But Remus was quicker. He turned, met the thing full on. He could nearly hear James roar behind him, firing off a counter curse, Sirius shoving at his shoulders. But they weren’t there. He was the last Marauder, the last bastion of it all, falling down around him. He told himself he could’ve thrown up a shield, cast a deflection, dove out of the way. If he were only a split second quicker, if he had James and Sirius at his shoulders, the best duellers he knew, moving as one. Of course he didn’t admit it, he didn’t want to think about how he could’ve postponed the ending just for a few more painful moments. He was thinking about endings. But he was bone-tired and Godric, everything still hurt. He was always thinking about endings. As he had been since the beginning, Remus was painfully aware of the end. The curse hit him square, and in that glorious moment, everything stopped hurting.

Then, he was stepping on the Hogwarts Express, sunlight filtering through the windows. He was on autopilot, stumbling through the carriages until he got to their compartment. Just like he did every September, the same compartment year after year, even the same compartment in 1993 when he woke with the acid of grief in his throat, staring at James and two best friends he didn’t recognise. Always the same compartment, back to his best friends, his other halves, his pack, year after year, even through all the pain and terror and hollowness of it all, the Hogwarts Express welcomed him home. The door slid open and there was James, all grins and a shock of messy hair, exactly how he was in the Summer of 1980, giddy with excitement at the world, worries so far away. He pulled Remus into a tight hug, until Lily shoved him aside and stood on her tiptoes to draw Remus against her. She was the same, endless happiness shining from her bright green eyes, so beautiful and like the sister he had been longing for for so long. His heart ached with belonging. He heard their words but they didn’t seem to matter. He’d been thinking so hard about endings, he didn’t think about what might be past them. Then Lily moved, stepping aside with a knowing smile on her pretty lips, and there was Sirius.

Sirius Black in all of his beauty, as old as when he’d seen him last, but without the ravages of Azkaban, the cruelty of time. His hair was as thick and luscious as it had been stepping from the shower in their flat, his eyes sparkled with the mirth and livelihood he remembered, and that Queen shirt hung just so from his bony shoulders, skimmed his stomach in just the way he remembered. He looked like mischief personified, so glorious and gorgeous and _here_. He looked like Remus was looking in a mirror and seeing all his missing pieces. His lips tasted like menthol cigarettes as he pulled Remus down for a light kiss, and Moony felt the half of his being become whole again. In that moment, the pain that had followed him for sixteen years, the uneasiness in his gut that had settled there since the first moment their lips met two decades ago, had gone. Sirius was pliant and beautiful, tangling his hands in auburn curls and murmuring some ridiculous quip, probably teasing his rusty duelling stance from the battle, something about refreshing his memory in a different kind of duelling. All the pain and horror and terror of it all washed away against Sirius’ body and Remus found himself clinging to the half of his whole he was so keenly aware of missing until now. He choked on the idea of feeling whole, it felt like too much, he was so used to being empty.

Remus Lupin always knew it would end this way. It was all too much, but all at once, it was exactly what he needed. Never what he wanted. But it all seemed to pale into insignificance. He was quite happy for the end to come.


	2. Sirius Black

Sirius Black, of course, never thought about endings.

Sirius was always in the present, always flying by the seat of his pants. A moment like sprinting away from Filch in first year, the foundations of the Marauder’s hardened every time they crammed into a broom cupboard to avoid detection, sniggering behind their hands. He was in the present, heart on his sleeve, already devoted to James within five minutes of sitting across from him, already knowing he would sacrifice the world for James Potter over and over, then swiftly realising he wouldn’t sacrifice a thing of the world, because all of it was Remus Lupin, and he would have to find another way to burn the world for his brother.

Whether it was speaking before he really thought, upset about where Remus would go every month in a boyish pang of sadness and desperate to cling to the first real threads of affection he’d ever been allowed, and as soon as he figured it out, blurting Remus’ secret to their friends at 2am when he was staring at the moon. He had always done and then thought about it after, always in the present with little thought to before or after. But that was Sirius, that was always his way and damned if he could change it.

Then it was hurried declarations of love, Sirius never thought about endings, he just wanted Remus to know just how much he cared for him. It came naturally, spilling out of his mouth like it was the most obvious thing in the world and Remus loved him too. At Christmastime not much later, with the dorm to themselves, new in their discovery of each other, but so so sure of how much he loved Remus Lupin. Sirius felt like his heart would explode every time he looked at him and it seemed to double every time they fell in to bed together, the wandering desperate hands of youth, then Remus’ teeth so sharp and warm in his shoulder, pinning with the feral pleasure of the wolf and Merlin he’d never felt anything like it. The rush of love, the rush of _too much love_ for his own heart to take but it wasn’t just him, he could feel Remus too and the tears were in his eyes. The strangest thing was nothing seemed to change. Their near telepathic link just seemed natural, beautiful glances across the common room, a gasp dying in his throat as he felt the arousal spike in Remus’ groin just a moment before he felt his own response. It was the most wonderful thing in the world to Sirius to know he truly had a place.

Then it was running from Grimmauld Place with just the clothes on his back, his wand in his hand and the fiery burst of pain along his cheekbone, the sharpness of _Crucio_ in his veins along with his mothers’ screaming. He just needed to be out, be away from it all, for his sanity, for the moment of brief clarity stepping over the threshold for the final time brought. Euphemia and Fleamont accepted him the same way James did, in those first five minutes. It took Sirius a long time to accept how giving the Potters’ were, how truly deserving the Black heir was of love that he had never felt before, working only moment to moment, not thinking about where to go next but only in the moment of no Grimmauld Place, no Walburga, no Crucio, and only mornings of tea and crumpets with James over the long summer. The moments were what kept him going through the grief of such a change of life. Remus kept close that summer, closer than usual and sometimes, through the grief Sirius snapped, only in the moment, a canine response to affection he had never had before.

Then it was Snape, he never thought about endings, he just wanted Snivellus to _hurt_ the way he did. The pain of Walburga’s _Crucio_ still sharp in his veins, a tiny, meaningless, stupid spat with Moony a few hours earlier. James was mad, so incredibly, amazingly angry and Sirius’ insides had turned to lead. Remus never told him the reason he came off so bad that full moon was that Moony could feel the despair and sadness of Sirius in its lupine insides and tried to tear its way out to reach its mate.

Then it was Remus, again, how much he, in the moment, not thinking forward or backwards, just _needed_ to have Remus back, he needed Moony to know how much he needed him. Neither of them had ever been told how impossible it was to be apart once their souls had entwined. The horror gnawed at Sirius like nothing ever had before, but he apologised, laid himself bare every night to Remus, to see the pain and just how sorry he was. He felt the gnawing at Remus too, in their twin insides, the roots of their trees grown together. It didn’t take long for them to fall back together, just how they always had been, two halves of a whole. But it was just a moment. A moment of gnawing sadness until all his moments became happiness again, curled with Remus in front of the fire, loving contentment and acceptance.

The moment always seemed the most important. Like when, after Lily and James’ wedding, he’d uttered _Marry Me_ to Remus, tangled in the sheets of his old room at the Potter estate, staring up at the glow in the dark stars he enchanted there years ago. He didn’t think about the implications, he didn’t plan ahead. It had just slipped out, when his limbs were boneless and he was drunk and spent. Remus had drunkenly waved him off, saying they would talk about it in the morning, but they never did, and Sirius let the moment go, never thinking about endings.

He didn’t think about endings when he and Remus argued, the tensions high, run ragged from the war and barely seeing each other. When the horrible thought entered his mind that perhaps _Remus_ was the spy in their midst, and perhaps they should change the Secret Keeper after all. If the thought had occurred to Sirius to think about endings, he wouldn’t have suggested it. But he never did think about endings, and so it was done.

The worst moment of his life was always screaming at the forefront of his mind. Their faces so open and placid and still somehow beautiful in all the horror of death. The squalls of Harry from above as James lay in the doorway, always so steadfast and headstrong and so protective of his family. Sirius knew he would never forget dumbly sliding James’ glasses back onto his nose, heedless of the crack in the glass, before trudging upstairs to tuck a strand of fire behind Lily’s ear, tears streaming down his face. He thought for a moment how Remus must be able to feel this, the tearing pain, and yet he was not here. Sirius thought that their connection must’ve been broken, for if Sirius felt even a glimmer of this pain in Remus he would Apparate through hellfire to be beside him. And yet he wasn’t there, the moment had passed and Sirius was alone and shrieking with grief he didn’t know how to handle.

He didn’t think about endings when he chased after Peter, so raw with grief, so torn wide open at the thought of life stretching before him without James, without Lily, without his brother and the most beautiful woman in the world. He didn’t think, he was just so painfully aware, so so painful that all that came was laughter, painful and raw and Godric it hurt. He couldn’t comprehend how much it hurt and how so very alone he was. He laughed as they took him away.

So much of Sirius was anchored in the present, never thinking about how his decisions would shoot forward in time, affecting everyone whether he liked it or not. In Azkaban, he didn’t think about the future, or endings. There was no forward perspective, no chance of getting out, for the longest time he just existed.

He thought a lot about the past. He thought about where it had all gone so wrong, how he managed to lose his family once, how he managed to become so lucky, to gain a brother in James when he lost Regulus, to gain parents in Euphemia and Fleamont when he had barely even had them before, and then lose them all over again. He thought about the horror and terror of it all and how it faded away when he thought about his friends, the glorious welcome of the Gryffindor Common Room, James at his shoulder, Remus behind. He even thought about Peter, despite the searing pain, he wondered how it had all gone so wrong.

He thought about blissful days at Hogwarts, when the dementors were just out of reach and he allowed himself a moment of brightness, where the world couldn’t touch them and it was glorious. He thought about how it took him so long so realise about Remus’ lycanthropy, how he had missed the correlation between his best friend and the moon, the weary look on his face whenever he returned from the Hospital Wing, how he had missed the signs that were so glaringly obvious with the benefit of hindsight. He thought about how desperately he and James had looked for a solution, how easy becoming an Animagus had seemed in the folly of his youth, how nothing seemed to be impossible with James by his side and Remus at his back. He thought about how natural it all had seemed, as if no other conclusion could be reached but the one they had, nothing would stop Sirius protecting his Moony. After all, he never thought about endings.

He thought about how he had missed the fact he was head over heels in love with Remus Lupin. He thought about that a lot over the years, how much he loved Remus, how he wished they would have but another fleeting second together again, with everything undone and bare. How the sight of Remus, in fourth year when the feeling surged forth, so outwardly meek, his threadbare cable knit sweaters, that long silvering scar over his nose, amber eyes peeking from beneath his curly auburn fringe, set his heart ablaze. He could be so quiet and unassuming, but in the Gryffindor common room, with his three best friends, Remus came alive, that sly little smirk, the spark in his eye that told the others he had just figured out the biggest hurdle to their newest prank. Or later, when Sirius had been dancing on the table with Marlene to Queen, Remus had caught the wiggle of his boyfriend’s hips and tugged him insistently towards the dorm, heat flickering through their insides they just knew the other boy felt too. Sirius, of course, acquiesced, as if he could do anything but around Remus, their attraction more than words. He thought a lot about that in Azkaban, those fle eting moments of brightness he allowed himself before the fury and agony returned.

When he wasn’t thinking about the other half of his being, he thought about his brother, his other other half, James Potter, and the most beautiful woman in the world, fiery little Lily Evans, darling Lilypad and how happy she made James. He thought about the wriggling bundle of arms and legs, a shock of messy black hair, the pure, unadulterated joy. Sirius never thought he would like children, but as soon as Harry James Potter was born, he knew he was wrong and he would move heaven and earth to do anything for the little Prongslet. The past was what kept Sirius going in Azkaban, the thought of his beautiful friends, and his beautiful beautiful Moony. Despite the pain. The pain was always in the future, it would come a split second after he thought, and so it didn’t matter to him, not until it was in the moment and the pain was searing. But the cycle continued, flickering between the past and the present without a thought of endings.

Even his escape from Azkaban was in the moment, that moment of fury seeing Wormtail in the paper. He barely even blinked and the thought was already processed, he was already shifting to Padfoot and running. He was in the moment, always, thinking of vengeance and nothing else. When he saw Remus for the first time in twelve years, he was in the moment. At first there was a spark of elation, the feeling of his half almost becoming whole again, before it was the righteous fury of betrayal. Remus hadn’t trusted him, but he hadn’t trusted Moony either. He never thought about endings, only the past that propelled him, or the moment of now. He didn’t think about what the future might entail when he kissed Remus hard one night at Grimmauld Place, wishing they were back to how they were thirteen years ago. He had spent twelve years living in his head, in the past, in a place where Remus looked at him like he was the world, and God he was so beautiful. In the moment, Sirius needed that, he needed the stability of his other half. He didn’t think about the pain, the difficulty, the way horror seemed to follow them around.

Even as Sirius Black charged into the Ministry of Magic, running after Prongslet to protect him without a second thought, and spun around to face his cousin with a roar of righteous fury, he didn’t think about endings. He thought about how he finally felt like himself again, duelling and fighting with his best friends. He saw Remus, across the room, firing curses off with that preternatural speed, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He saw James - no, Harry - fighting with the skill of Prongs, the fearlessness of Lilypad. He was in the moment, gloriously so.

Even as Sirius Black fell through the veil, he wasn’t thinking about endings.

He didn’t think about endings when he stepped onto the Hogwarts Express, sunlight filtering through the windows. He made his way down the train, his heart in his throat at the joy of being back where he belonged. Hogwarts felt like home, seven years of unfailing acceptance from his friends, the house of his most wonderful memories, before the pain and terror and horror. He stepped onto the train and headed straight for their compartment like it was second nature, without even thinking his feet carried him. And there was James, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug, Sirius only thinking in the moment, how much he loved his brother. Lily was there after their embrace, sliding her arms around his waist and he was in the moment, his hands clutching her close, suddenly, momentarily swept away by it all. They were the most perfect thing Sirius had ever seen, sitting next to each other in the carriage like a facsimile of seventh year, where everything was so so beautiful and Sirius cried with the rush of it all. They sat and talked for the longest time, not thinking about endings. Time seemed to slip by with unimportance, nothing seemed to bother Sirius now he was back with his brother and sister and feeling at last like he belonged. After some time a shadow appeared at the carriage door and Sirius held his breath in the moment, all too aware of the emptiness, gnawing at his insides. The emptiness wasn’t immediately apparent until the idea of getting rid of it was presented to him. He swallowed and stood, Lily and James smiling knowingly. He recognised that profile anywhere, and after James and Lily pulled away, time truly did stop.

There was Remus Lupin. So thoroughly beautiful and imperfect, the silver scars over his face, those soft auburn curls, not a day older than when he’d saw him last, but the ravages of thinking about endings were gone from his face. He was the bright, beautiful man Sirius remembered, his eyes glowing amber and devouring Sirius whole just like they used to, a smile curling his lips as he leant down to meet Sirius’ kiss. Remus was like an anchor in a storm, the most beautiful reassurance he had ever felt, against him and stroking his hands through Sirius’ hair, tugging just so like he always did. He tasted like chocolate, and Sirius pulled back as if looking in a mirror and seeing all the pieces that had gone missing over the years. He smiled, muttered something asinine and dirty, the words rolling from his tongue and mouthing down the line of Remus’ neck like he had been wanting to do until the end of time, and Sirius felt the half of him become whole again.

Sirius Black didn’t think about endings, the moment was all he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sort of rambling drabble of my take on a reasonably canon-compliant Wolfstar. 
> 
> It's the first time I've written fanfic in nearly a decade! But if you like my writing, keep an eye out for an Everyone Lives Jily and Wolfstar Raising Harry looong fic I'm working on. And I would die of happiness for reviews!


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